


so that the world might never overtake us

by antarcticas



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: A Mythological AU of a Mythological AU, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Annabeth is a badass, Domestic Fluff, Dysfunctional Family, Everyone is a God, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, God!Annabeth, God!Percy, Marriage, Slight Historical Inaccuracy, They're In Love Your Honor, all the good percabeth feels, devoted percabeth, of course when you're a god your family is dysfunctional, percy is a little angsty and angry, powerful percabeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24428776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antarcticas/pseuds/antarcticas
Summary: “You know as well as I do that the Fates hold the strings. Everything that you do is written in.”“So what happens to my agency, then?”A moment of silence.“It is terrible,” she’s shifted closer to him. “How everything is just out of our control. We just have to do what we think is right. Fate takes care of everything else.”The sun has started to rise out over the horizon, and it paints the world in front of them a starting violet. It’s gorgeous to see and she knows, now, why so many of her great poets write about this as a religious experience. Right now, the water pounding at their feet and the wind across their hair, she understands him all too clearly.OR: Percy and Annabeth are gods and their fates grow more and more intertwined as the centuries pass by.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, background Jason Grace/Piper McLean
Comments: 11
Kudos: 246





	so that the world might never overtake us

**2700 BC**

She’s standing outside, waiting for the Olympians to calm down as they convene for the solstice. After they finish their incessant and usually pointless arguing she will go back home with her mother and go back to the monotony of her life. It’s only just begun but she already dreads immortality.

“You’re relatively new,” a voice says from behind her.

She turns around on the bench she’s been sitting in, abstractly admiring its craftsmanship, curls carved into the marble. There is a boy standing behind her — well, not a  _ boy _ , just as she’s not a  _ girl —  _ but a god nonetheless, with windswept black hair and oddly piercing green eyes. He has a loose smile on his face, and she immediately knows that he must be one of Poseidon’s, from the salty air he utterly  _ reeks  _ of. She can see his eyes track her dirty blond locks and come to the opposite conclusion.

Still, she doesn’t have a reason to dislike him yet (although she’s an awfully judgy goddess, she'll find one soon enough), so she gives him a quick nod and settles back down. “Literature. Humans have only started to understand my importance.” 

The words are accompanied by a frown and a reminder. Her worth comes from belief, and she has only come into existence due to human technology. She knows, deep inside, that she will always be somewhat looked down upon due to her removable status; she does not control love, or wisdom, or the sky or the sea, things which will stay the same as humans change the world with their machinations.

The boy slides in next to her; not close enough to touch, but close enough to make clear that he sees her words as an invitation. After a second of silence, he introduces himself. “I’m Perseus. Storms. Of the mostly water variety. Occasionally I work with Jason. You know him? Nice guy. Lightning. Definitely one of Zeus’s more standable offspring.”

She would normally find his attitude a little annoying, but she has time to spare. She looks up to see him sporting an interesting blush on his cheeks, but she puts that observation aside (she won’t come back to it for a few millennia). “No, actually. I haven’t been able to meet that many people, anyways. I’ve been a bit busy trying to . . . protect myself, I guess.”

He shrugs and lies back. “Yeah, it’s a little rough at first. Don’t worry about it. Soon it’ll all be routine and you’ll have plenty of time to spend on intellectual stimulation, or however you Pallas offspring like spending your time.”

His words are offensive but his tone is teasing, so she gives him a measured look which he just shrugs at before she smirks it off. “Guess you’ve been around a long time, old man.”

“Guess you could say that. I cause destruction, after all,” his voice sounds weary. “We can never have enough of that.”

They lapse into a quiet but strangely companionable silence. 

Eventually the noise coming from the throne room calms down and Athena storms out, an angry look on her face. She glances at Annabeth and gives her a stony look before disappearing off to who-knows-where — probably to look at the architectural plans of Crete, as she’s been prone to do recently.

Annabeth straightens her shoulders, ready to burst into her divine form, when Perseus taps her. She recoils clearly at the contact but stares at him all the same. 

“I would like to talk to you again, sometimes,” he speaks.

She sends him a haughty glance before disappearing. “Don’t worry. We have all the time in the world.”

* * *

  
  


**1432 BC**

“Ah, caves of old. I haven’t seen these in a while.”

She ignores him. “I would wonder if I could preserve these longer. The stories of these humans deserve to live on,” she rubs the rock, marveling at how the illustrations don’t transfer.

“You weren’t there for some of this, were you?”

“No,” she sighs, leaning against the wall. He joins her, a bit taller but not intimidating. It’s hard for him to be, with that perpetually positive look on his face. “A millennium and a half. I could have probably been around longer but writing was all too rare before then.”

“And literature, too, at that,” he smiles. “Times change.”

The cool stone beneath her holds so many secrets of the time of old and she wishes, for a moment, that she was as old as he. He clearly anticipates the question and answers. “I think I have existed as long as this sea has.”

“Oh. Just of Poseidon?”

He gives her a strange look. “No — it’s only goddesses who can sire on their own.”

There’s a question which lies unanswered at the end of that. She waits for a while before asking it. It seems he’s uncomfortable, but she doesn’t really care much for that. “Which goddess is your mother, then?”

He waits a long minute before he responds. She almost gives up on hearing it entirely, using the gap to observe the white lines and try to grow understanding out of it. She’s starting to wonder if it was meant to be a sort of counting system before he responds. “Was. She was a dryad, actually.”

“Was?”

He gives her a dark look, rather uncharacteristic. “She was cut down by a cruel nation. My father eventually buried them underwater. I think she was his first love.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Just — I don’t like talking about it.”

  
  


“Alright,” she allows. Then she turns her hands back to a swirl of blue, mapping the floors almost like the ocean. “What do you think this meant?

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**769 BC**

She’s sitting on a piece of rock in a forest (she doesn’t like the idea of settling down when there is so much to know in the world; she will return to her mother, but she is a goddess and she can usually do whatever she pleases); she thinks she is in Greece.

Apollo shines bright ahead of her. His warmth and the nice breeze which makes its way through the trees creates an almost ideal environment for her to loiter in. She does have a palace and she stays with her mother often enough, but sometimes she just longs to feel a little bit human. The forest, with its rough sounds and quiet dryads and lazing streams, is an almost idyllic place to stay. Especially for this purpose.

Her eyes are rapidly consuming the manuscript in front of her, knowing that this is a tale for the ages. She will go and bless Homer after this, and then go fast-track his path to Elysium, she thinks, a giddy feeling inside of her. A tale for the ages indeed. He’s chronicled the story beautifully. 

Annabeth’s far enough lost, into a magnificent story, when she feels a light tap on her shoulder. She screams and turns around, reflexively hiding the scrolls protectively against her chest.

“Relax,” Perseus chuckles. “I’m not going to attack your precious scrolls; they’re important to me too, you know.”

She groans at his chiseled face and wet hair. He’s . . .  _ annoying  _ to look at, she decides. For whatever reason his entire visage is distracting. “That was rude, Perseus,” she bites, throwing a branch that’s lying on the ground at him. He easily catches it and points at the beautiful pieces of writing in her hands. The sun is fading behind him, almost creating a halo around his moist hair. She groans.  _ Distracting. _

“Can I borrow those after you? A story based at sea, I’ve heard. I think it would be a fun read,” he scratches the back of his neck, “I think. I don’t really read much.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You know the sea isn’t the protagonist here, right?”

A slightly pensive look crosses over his face. It’s one she’s grown all too used to, over the past few centuries, and she hates seeing it just as she hates what she thinks it means. Writing, after all, can rarely be anything but positive; it’s a form of advancement, one slightly removed from the physical world. 

“Still,” he mutters. “It’s good to be a part of anything.”

She gives him a sad smile and pats the hard surface next to her. He gives her a more light-hearted grin before settling down and taking the piece of parchment she’d just finished. She watches the way he avidly digs into the material with a quirked eyebrow as she continues her perusal.

* * *

  
  
  


**463 BC**

“Perseus—”

“I’m going by Percy now, actually—”

“Oh, the guy who murdered Medusa, wasn’t it—”

“Yes, I’m quite angry, to be honest, I can’t believe a demigod took my name—”

“We need to stop meeting,” she sighs out, tapping her foot on the glassy rocks all across the beach  _ Percy  _ calls home. “My mother’s mad enough.”

“Father is too,” he groans. “And now I’m constantly suspect because of you. And we barely meet up every few decades anyways as they’ve gotten worse, and now he thinks that I’m not fulfilling my duties.”

“She thinks I’m going to end up losing my virginity,” she lets out quickly. It’s unfortunate that Athena’s grown so strict about her and Percy’s relationship; they’re just friends, anyways. She should have learned from Persephone’s story. 

Percy’s gaping at her, his face open looking, notably, like a fish. She snorts. “Don’t worry, I told her it isn't an issue. But she keeps pushing it. On top of the rivalry thing, I think we should maybe cool it for the next century or two.” 

He’s turning red now — he does that a lot, it’s amusing. “Y-yeah,” he stutters. “That sounds great. Fine. Totally fantastic.”

He blubbers a little more before his fingers flex out and the water behind him collects itself in a bubble around him, like it's magnetically attracted to his nervousness (which in hindsight, it probably is). As he starts to murmur about how he’s _ totally fine _ she sighs and places an arm on his shoulder. It works — the rising wave behind him comes down with a splash, water droplets splattering over the both of them. He stands there, shell-shocked, and she holds in a snort as she dries them both off with a twist of her fingers. 

She lets go and gives him a quick wink before starting to dissolve. “See you around in a while, Perce!”

  
  


* * *

**65 BC**

He’s sitting with half of his body submerged when she appears in front of him, stepping up through the waves. The feeling of seaweed wrapping itself around her ankles is awfully slimy, but she ignores it and settles in next to him. He, in turn, ignores her, his face in his hands. The sea next to them is moving, building up into a flurry of foam. 

She remembers the last time she was here all too well. It’s been a while since she’s sat down with the god she considers a good friend; or been near the water in general. She watches the water undulate with great interest, tracking the way it rises and falls with her eyes. Artemis shines above them and it looks almost black apart from the foaming edges. It still has an odd kind of beauty, though, she thinks.

“Chalcedon, Tenedos, Koraksesion,” he ends up murmuring. “I tried so hard.”

“You’re doing great, Percy. You always have. You rarely let your emotions get away from you—”

He throws his head up and looks at her with his eyes uncharacteristically cold. It bites. They haven’t spent time together alone at all recently, but she’d never have thought that he could change this much.

“What happened?” she whispers, and if her voice sounds a little broken she’ll tell herself later that she isn’t ashamed. 

He gives her a rough smirk — not playful, just detached. “I tried so hard, you know? For millennia. I told myself that I just needed to reign myself in. But then I thought about it. Maybe it’s against my nature to hold it in. It’s so complicated, you know. And I get—” he takes in a deep breath, “ _ angry  _ so easily. I’m not like you, Annabeth. I don’t get to stay away when I want to protect the world. I hate this, I hate how I’m responsible for all these emotions. I hated it. So I decided to let go.”

She takes a second before responding and saying something she knows she’ll regret. “You know as well as I do that the Fates hold the strings. Everything that you do is written in.”

“So what happens to  _ my  _ agency, then?”

A moment of silence.

“It is terrible. I understand,” she’s shifted closer to him. “How everything is just out of our control. We just have to do what we think is right. Fate takes care of everything else.”

It’s him who reaches out first and places an arm around her shoulders. She doesn’t change her pose, just shifts her feet in the warming water. It’s calming down. 

The sun has started to rise out over the horizon, and it paints the world in front of them a starting violet. It’s gorgeous to see and she knows, now, why so many of her great poets write about this as a religious experience. Right now, the water pounding at their feet and the wind across their hair, she understands him all too clearly.

“There will always be more mortals,” she whispers. “I just wanted you to understand that this isn’t your fault, Percy. Destruction is important. It creates new things.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “I’ve heard that one. I think I’ll just have to settle and be the villain.”

She doesn’t have anything to say to the terrible truth, so she gives into her impulses and leans in a little bit closer to his scent.

* * *

  
  


**48 BC**

  
  


She’s clutching her hair and sprawled across the floor of her home on Olympus. She doesn’t usually frequent it but she can’t stand to be on Earth right now. The scent of burning scrolls is still in her nostrils and her head is pounding with prayers she can’t answer. 

Normally gods can’t feel exhaustion but she fades into something close to unconsciousness as her largest shrine is enveloped in flames. When she wakes up she’s off the floor and lying in her ornate bed, almost never used. Her eyes mindlessly trace the stories painted across the ceiling, covered in words in Greek and Latin and hieroglyphs, all the societies she has defended herself. It just makes her tear up again and she clutches her sheets. They offer near to no comfort, but she almost imagines them to be a person.

Her mother is no help in situations like this. Annabeth has been around for more than a millenia and now Athena trusts her with her domain, if not the company she chooses to keep. The thought makes her want to groan and she flips a thought in her mind around a bit before narrowing her eyes and grabbing a drachma out of thin air. In a bit of formulated mist Percy appears in front of her. It takes him a bit of time to notice her, and she takes it to see him in his domain. While he’s seen the libraries and palaces and forests she tends to habit she’s never actually been to his sea realm. 

He has a tail, something which makes her chuckle. She’d never actually considered that he is usually a creature of the sea and is probably more attuned to his scales than his feet. It’s green and shiny, almost sparkly, and it looks very fitting as it moves back and forth in the water. It’s really just a tail — something the vast majority of sea gods have — but she does blush a little when she sees it. And he’s sitting on a throne, silver and ornate and studded with shells, his torso flexing as he grabs the armrests (she doesn’t think about his bare chest; she doesn’t). He looks to be listening to the plights of a much more minor god and a Nereid. They’re yelling at him, blasting out at each other about sea rights and human shipwrecks. It sounds tiring, and for a second she’s grateful that she doesn’t have underlings to deal with.

The pain rocks her again and she moans before placing her hands on her head again and pressing down. He notices the sound and they make eye contact briefly.

That second is all that they need. With a wave of his hand she watches him dismiss the still-quarrelling deities and wait till they disappear before speaking to her.

He’s blatant and his voice is sharper than she’s used to, but still inexplicably warm. “What’s wrong, Annabeth?”

The pain shooting through her soul makes it hard to respond. She knows that this isn’t enough for her to fade but it feels so terrible she can’t imagine what coming close to fading must mean. Her face must say enough, because his eyes widen and he asks another question. “Are you on Olympus?”

She lets out a quick nod and he slashes his hand through the call, appearing in front of her seconds later (with a toga, and legs). It’s utterly inappropriate for him to be in her private quarters but she couldn’t care less. His presence offers her up some kind of clarity and she sniffs a little, hating her weakness.

He leans next to her with a glass of nectar which she takes and swallows down, sitting up on the bed. After ensuring that she’s comfortable he calls a chair to her side and patiently waits for her to finish before vanishing it and looking at her with an inquisitive eye. 

She doesn’t want to say it, but she knows she should. “The Library at Alexandria,” she whispers. “It burned.  _ All  _ that knowledge — it took so  _ long,  _ Perce,” her tone is unsteady, “and now they have to build it all up again.”

He seems understanding. “I’d heard of Caesar’s storm — I was having some disturbances there yesterday. I didn’t know about the library.”

“I’ve never been part of something that broke,” she replies. “I think I understand what you meant. About destruction. Well — not completely. I don’t think I ever will understand completely, the way you do. But it  _ hurts,  _ Percy.”

He reaches out and places a hand on her hair, running it through the curly strands and wrapping a strand around his finger. This feels dangerous. 

“It’s different for you. My storms — they’re me, it’s  _ natural.  _ You’re special, Annabeth. You’ve been holding up civilizations. You’re integral to all this human knowledge. They will build themselves up again. I know you can feel it, just as I do.”

She leans into his touch, placing her hand around his, where it’s paused on her shoulder. He feels moist and also firm and dry. This is a moment of weakness. She knows it. Her mother always tells her about the evils of men and she understands.

She looks at Percy, Perseus — her best friend — and cannot believe that he is one of those legends. 

They stare into each other’s eyes for a minute, hands clasped together, like they’re seeing the future unfold in clear irises. Then he shakes his head and the moment is mostly gone. Pulling his hand away, he stutters as he asks if she’d like more ambrosia. 

  
  


* * *

**98 AD**

The seven of them laugh as they lay across the floor of Jason’s receiving room. He has the most opulent palace out of all of them, mostly because of his inclination towards excess (probably influenced by his father), but they don’t mind much anyways. It means that the cushions they lay across are absurdly comfortable and that there is plenty of room for them to truly act like children.

Hazel, who usually seems rather sweet — she chooses to portray herself as the youngest of all of them too, which doesn’t help her case — continues her reenactment of her father’s hearing of this new religious sect which has been growing more and more relevant. She’s clutching her sides as she recalls how surprised he’d been when one of his souls hadn’t bathed in the Lethe before rebirth. When she finishes they all flop on each other further and reflect on the passings of the past century. A new religion still based on the old; it is hilarious how they always think they’re building something new but they never really do.

Frank speaks up quietly (something Annabeth’s always found funny, as he’s the god of honorable warfare) and turns the conversation to a more serious note. “They haven’t had such a good reason for war in a long time. I’ve seen much in the future, and it only gets worse.”

They are all friends, all relatively similar and with personalities that  _ work  _ together. But there is always an underlying edge to their interactions. For it’s Percy, Jason, Hazel and Piper who are constants. The rage of the sea and the sky and the metals of the universe and human emotion stays constant. Some things do not change. But Frank’s war, Annabeth’s words, and Leo’s scientific innovation; their very being is dependent on Fate. It’s a line most gods don’t like to acknowledge, and they too don’t want to disturb the festivities so they let the grim note pass over. 

Annabeth lies next to Percy, his hand loosely draped across her waist. She doesn’t quite know what the two of them are doing but she knows her mother wouldn’t approve. She’d had a conversation with Piper about it (her closest girl friend is the goddess of charm; she might as well take advantage of it) and she’d shaken her head at Annabeth and told her to do whatever felt right. 

She looks up to make eye contact with Piper as she slides in a little closer to Percy, letting him envelop her. She smirks and blows her a kiss before settling back into her place on Jason’s lap. She views them with jealousy sometimes. She knows their relationship isn’t perfect, of course, but Piper’s mother is the goddess of passion; she doesn’t begrudge her daughter.

Athena dislikes almost everyone she surrounds herself with. She distrusts Aphrodite and hates Poseidon and she’s constantly reminding Annabeth about the importance of her purity. But Annabeth doesn’t really know if she even really values it anymore. Percy snuggles into her warmth. This feels more like home.

* * *

  
  


**379 AD**

Athena’s busy on Olympus with the rest of the major gods as they bemoan Theodosius’s order to close all their ‘pagan’ worship sites (her mother calls the term inflammatory; Annabeth knows the power of words). It isn’t really that big of a deal — faith always exists — but it’s awfully symbolic, and so the Olympians must argue about it. 

Annabeth’s relatively happy about this development. She’s never been the largest fan of water but perhaps that’s due to lack of interaction, she supposes, and she likes testing out theories. She shows up on the shore right outside of Percy’s palace right at the time they’ve agreed on and he’s there a second later. She’s been here many times in the past, of course, but she’s never ventured deeper. That felt like crossing a dangerous line.

She’d debated just showing up underwater but she wants the full experience. She wants to observe the world around her in the depths of the sea. She’s read about it, of course, but she’s never experienced it. There isn’t much she hasn’t experienced. 

He gives her one of his bright grins — it feels like who he used to be is almost resurfacing, like the innocent god she met three millennium ago hasn’t seen so much heartbreak — and grabs her hand and pulls her into the water. They walk into the waves.

She’s submerged immediately and looks around as soon as she can to see the life already around her. It feels almost like the air in her grandfather’s realm; almost, not quite. It’s an amazing sensation. Her hair drifts in the currents and stays out of her face, spiraling about her face. Schools of fish dart around her and a dolphin swims around them in circles. She reaches out a finger and touches the edge of a coral reef, noticing the small details which abound around it; the barnacles and urchins and anemones.

She giggles at the strange feeling, and when she looks to her side Percy is smiling much softer. He winks and with a snap of his fingers she has a tail, grey and scaly and long. She swims forwards a little and doesn’t find it very odd at all. It flows seamlessly with her body, just like the legs she usually uses do. Again, Fate tugs at her heartstrings, almost like a promise that she’ll spend many other days like this.

They drift away from the coral and they race each other as they finally approach his castle (he wins, mostly because she’d distracted at the sight of a stingray). He bows with a flourish as she walks through his seashell embedded archway. It’s interesting ocean architecture and she traces the way it cements together, promising herself that she’ll return later and look at it in-depth. 

He drags her through room after room after room until they end up in front of a door which is closed — or rather, nonexistent. It’s an imprint in the wall. She gives him a strange look and he winks before blinking them out of existence for a second and then into air once again. Her legs feel strange before she can use them again, splayed across the stone floor of an open chamber.

“Perce, what are we—”

Her voice dies out as she looks around at where he’s taken her. A waterproof room, held tight with magic, she can see. And all around her, carefully packaged on stone shelves, rotating as far as she can see, are scrolls and books and tablets.  _ Words. _

It takes her a second to process and when she does she gasps and looks at his face, which is turning that adorable red color again. 

“For me?” she whispers.

His teeth are blinding as he stares at her like she is his everything; and as she drifts around the room looking at the remnants of thousands of shipwrecks, she knows that she has passed a point she can’t come back from.

  
  


* * *

**610 AD**

It’s a cultural awakening and of course that merits a party on Olympus. She’s started to learn to stay away from her mother, started to develop her own distance. Pallas is nothing but controlling, however, so she hasn’t been able to get away yet. Percy winks at her from across the room, laughing as he jokes around with Hermes. 

Hera, of course, offers a toast to Heraclius, and then they all down their nectar (except for Dionysus — he, of course, is chugging chalices of wine as quickly as they appear in front of him). Soon the sound goes in and they all take their seats  _ somewhere.  _ She sits with Athena on one of the ornate benches, always the prodigal daughter. 

The night is going relatively well. She’d talked mostly with Hazel, who — as a female and nonrelative of Aphrodite — is almost the only person who she’s approved to converse with. 

It is, of course, Aphrodite who comes and turns her world over. She can almost feel Piper’s warning in her mind before the ever-so-promiscuous scion of passion sidles up to them, her hips bouncing against the marble. That alone draws stares from the gods who aren’t already looking at her cleavage. “Ah, Annabeth, dear. It’s so nice to see you.”

Athena huffs. “Your presence is not welcomed here,  _ Cytherea. _ ”

The love goddess has thick skin and a more invading presence. “I would argue the contrary, actually. I do foresee something  _ special  _ in Annabeth’s future . . .”

It’s an ominous note and Annabeth cringes. She kisses her on the cheek before disappearing in a cloud of fruity perfume and leaving behind an incensed goddess of warfare. Annabeth tenses for a confrontation, her fists clenching and her eyes avidly ignoring her mother’s.

“Goddess of  _ love, _ ” she hisses. “Ignore her, Annabeth. I’m sure she just wants to create mayhem. Typical of her,” she shakes her head. “You don’t even enjoy the company of men, do you?”

It’s lucky for her that the question is seemingly rhetorical. She slides into her seat and makes brief eye contact with Percy across the room once again. He sends her a blinding smile and she can feel a stone sink into her stomach.

* * *

  
  
  


**876 AD**

  
  


“Who’s Maira?” she finally asks, collecting all her courage to ask a question which she feels might break her a little.

His breath catches. “Nobody.”

“Really?”

“Just one of the Nereids.”

They’re lying on the cushions of her home today, watching a horse race take place down below. They aren’t touching, or even facing each other, and when she flips herself she sees his uncharacteristic frown.

“Nobody,” he repeats, with a quiet add-on, “to me. Anymore.”

She keeps her voice steady. “But she was, at one point, wasn’t she? She was somebody.”

She’s briefly taken aback when he reaches out and lightly grasps one of her hands. “Over four millenium ago,” he whispers, “even I barely existed. I haven’t seen her in that long.”

“Do you — do you wish you could?”

He laughs. It’s not what she’s expecting. “I have not, for any minute that you have existed, thought of anyone else. And if I'd known that you would come into being I wouldn't have made that decision so long ago.”

She looks into his eyes and sees pure, shining truth, so she clutches his hand to her chest, over her heart. She cannot bring herself to say words but he imperceptibly nods his understanding. 

* * *

**941 AD**

It’s a relatively small funeral but she watches from behind the trees anyway. Percy’s rather bored, standing next to her with his hand on her back. He’s tense — she can feel it — and she knows they need to have this conversation.

She doesn’t want to, at all, so she stares at the procession and makes an assortment of intellectual quips she knows go over his seaweed brain. He laughs appropriately and rolls on the balls of his feet.

After it finishes they go sit on the banks of the Zeravshan, feet lazing in the water.  _ We have all the time in the world,  _ she remembers once saying. It’s funny. Now she feels every second in her throat. 

When he makes eye contact with her she knows what he means but he says it out loud anyways. “You need to decide, Annabeth. I lo—”

“Don’t say it,” she interjects harshly, before calming down. “Don’t — it’s not fair if we say it now. I need to talk to my Mother. I don’t know what she’ll say. But I need to talk to her.”

His face brightens. “You — you decided?”

She grabs one of his hands and traces each finger. Then she looks into his eyes, into their sea-green depth, and nods to tell him that she has. She’s had her doubts for millenia, she’s been so terrified of disapproval, but she can’t live an immortal life treating it like she  _ has all the time in the world.  _ She’s wasted so much of it being the perfect daughter, being intelligent and virginal, all soft smiles and innocence, but she’s not that any more. She wants to spend the rest of her life with Percy; with his snores and forever young visage, his understanding of her love for her books, the way he sees and holds her through her struggles.

So then she leans forwards and she kisses him. 

He presses his lips fast against hers, voraciously, and she doesn’t have any regrets. Her conflict is replaced with resolve; this is her future. She has spent so much time waiting. No longer.

* * *

  
  


**947 AD**

It takes time to find the perfect moment but eventually she’s able to orchestrate a way to tell Athena. She invites Perspehone (a goddess she’s always had a decent relationship with, and a proponent of romance in the face of purity) along with Piper and Jason and Percy to cover all of her bases. 

Her mother gives her a disapproving look when she observes the grouping (focusing on Percy; Annabeth hadn’t mentioned him after the unfortunate Poseidon incident), but is composed as they all dine before retiring to her central megaron. When the conversation stills — mostly spearheaded by Jason, bless him — she faces her mother and takes in an unnecessary deep breath.

“Mother I — I need to tell you something, something incredibly important — but before I do, I’d like your word that you won’t overreact.”

Athena’s eyebrows knit. “You have it.”

The room is deathly quiet as Annabeth reaches across her and places her hand on Percy’s shoulder in a way that is unmistakably familiar. 

“Perseus and I — we’re seeing each other,” she says in one breath with a soft smile in his direction that he returns.

Athena doesn’t share the sentiments. She looks at their connection and starts turning increasingly paler. Her nostrils lightly flare and her fists obviously clench, her lips held tight in a straight line. Seconds turn into minutes. Persephone reaches out to her and Athena thrusts out a hand to deflect her before speaking through clenched teeth. “How long has this been going on?”

“We’ve been friends for the past couple millennium. It’s started to become something more just in the last.”

Now Athena sits back. “A millennium,” she speaks, quietly. Then again, louder. “A millennium, Annabeth, you have been going behind my back and consorting with a son of  _ Poseidon.  _ Not only did you fall for a man but one of the sea.”

Neither of them know how to reply so they stay quiet. Persephone sits stalwartly with her eyes searching her sister’s, ready to intervene. Piper and Jason seem to be attempting to make themselves scarce. 

Percy clutches her shoulder in turn, and Athena’s calm exterior breaks.

“Aphrodite — the  _ insolence —”  _ Piper seems affronted but Jason holds her back, “ended up being correct, I see. I see that I let you go too early. Early enough for you to have a relationship with the worst kind of man, one who is surely using you — and a god of  _ storms,  _ is he not? Mindless violence, child. He is a god of destruction and you are one of progress —  _ where could this ever go —” _

“Pallas,” Persephone interjects, the last phrase stinging her, “Annabeth is of age —”

“ _ No,  _ she is not. She clearly doesn’t understand manipulation. Neither do  _ you,  _ sister, with Hades. Stay out of this,” she looks at Annabeth with anger radiating off of her face as her divine form begins, leaving behind a damning sentence. “Right now you are no daughter of mine. Keep your domain and cavort with the demon-spawn — one day you will come back, I know, with regrets.”

Persephone is the first to speak as she disappears. “She is bitter. Do not worry, you two,” she gives them a soft smile, “I have faith. And Annabeth, do not take your mother’s words too harshly. She is level-headed but she is a daughter of Zeus,” Jason snorts, “and sometimes our tempers do fly away from us.” With a wink she disappears, leaving the younger quartet lying across the cushions. 

“She’s bitter,” Jason observes.

Annabeth winces. “That’s cruel, isn’t it?”

“Love’s a beautiful thing,” Piper reminds them both as they sit, almost clutching each other. After a few minutes she starts again, lightly. “We’ll take our leave now, but you do know we’re always here —”

“— for both of you,” Jason finishes the thought, giving Percy a quick squeeze on the shoulder before disappearing. 

Annabeth clutches Percy as a lifeline for moments after they leave, absently staring at her walls, riddled in Coptic script. “I was expecting that,” she murmurs. 

“But it still hurt,” he concludes, wrapping her in his arms. “Would you like to go to Kataigída, now?”

With a nod he whisks them off to his palace and they settle onto his bedsheets. Sleep is unneeded but Annabeth stares at the fish that run through his chambers freely with a blank face as she feels her trajectory turn. 

* * *

  
  


**1054 AD**

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” she remarks.

Percy’s court is open and they’re presiding over a boring set of celebrations. Another small war has ended. There is plenty of liquor and quite a few other gods keep popping in to enjoy the festivities, but she doesn’t feel much. She’s been to her fair share of these godly parties and they’re all the same. Gossip is all that exists after a point of life.

“What is?” he responds, idly twisting an empty chalice around his finger. It’s studded with jewels, a masterpiece.

“All of it.  _ God,  _ you know. They’re praying to us and they don’t even realize it. The point of a schism — they try so  _ hard.  _ It’s hilarious.”

He raises an eyebrow and looks a little dumbfounded. “What are you talking about?”

She gives him a cool stare, scrunching her brows when she realizes that he genuinely doesn’t understand. “Percy. How  _ long  _ has it been since you’ve actually walked the Earth?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t know. Maybe a century? Give or take.”

She thinks back and realizes that he’s telling the truth. They’re not exactly joined at the hip — sometimes they do go months, sometimes years between seeing each other — but she hasn’t been above the water with him in quite a long time. He has been awfully busy cleaning up his messes (the entire western landmass has been decimated many times in the past century; the humans living there are relatively distraught) but she hadn’t realized it’d gotten this bad.

“I know that you’re doing your job down here — rather well — but it wouldn’t hurt you to spend some time amongst the humans now and again. After all, you are only here because of them. A lot’s changed in the past century.”

“I see plenty of shipwrecks,” he groans, “I do see humans.”

“ _ Alive  _ humans. You don’t even know about the Schism. It’s  _ all  _ everyone’s been talking about for the past few years.”

She can feel herself starting to act patronizing and she knows she should stop but she’s just so —  _ pent up.  _ His fist clenches (the chalice breaks and falls to the ground but they pay it no heed) and she can tell he, too, is trying to reign in his temper.

They both fail. In retrospect, it’s surprising they’ve lasted this long.

“I’m being  _ responsible,  _ Annabeth. I’m taking care of my realm and making sure that there isn’t any discourse and I’m — I’m fine.”

“And that’s why the past century has had more hurricanes than almost the past millennium, right? Because you’re being so responsible. Do you even care about the humans dying?”

She’s crossed a line. “They’re humans, Annabeth. Didn’t you once tell me that we don’t actually have control over any of this? That it’s just fate?”

“That wasn’t an excuse for you to turn heartless and trap yourself under the sea.”

Their voices are raising but the dozens of Nereids and minor gods and sea monsters don’t seem to care that much. Gods have a habit of it, anyways.

“Right. I’m trapping myself. How long has it been since you’ve gone to Olympus, again? You haven’t even gone to  _ your own palace  _ in a century. You’re such a wise girl with all your books and your mortals and how much you care about preserving history. You’re such a champion of everyone but yourself.”

“You have a choice—”

“And you don’t?” 

The water around them is warping itself, encasing the two of them in a mini-whirlpool. Normally she doesn’t care much about Percy’s whims and how he bends the currents but it feels alien as it slides around her tail. 

“You chose this, Annabeth. You chose me, and this, and us, so why won’t you own it? If you change your mind then just  _ change it.  _ Don’t lead me on for centuries and try to be  _ both.  _ You can’t, don’t you get it? You can’t be with me and also be the model daughter of Athena.”

“I—”

“If it’s really that hard for you to decide maybe you should just go back to her. Clearly, I’m not making you happy.” His voice changes from targeted to distraught and the pressure eases up around her. 

“No, Percy,” she whispers. “That’s — that’s not it.”

“Really?” he looks utterly disappointed and it’s breaking her heart. With a quick glance at the bustling room around her she sighs and whisks them away. Seconds later they’re once again sitting on the bank of a river, feet casually drifting through the slow current.

It feels so familiar when she clutches both of her hands in his and smiles. “Perseus of the Sea. Really. I love you.”

* * *

  
  


**1221 AD**

She walks with Reyna in the Venetian streets, right towards the beach. Reyna’s mostly Roman but they get along despite everything. It turns out that when you’re not troublesome your personalities don’t want to rip you apart.

“It’s antithetical that I’m happy about the trade and the cities, but I am, truly, you know?” Reyna kicks a rock out of the street. “Just because I’m the goddess of destruction doesn’t mean I like it. Sometimes it’s necessary to bring down old things to build in the new.”

Annabeth nods in solidarity as they walk through the marketplace, idly perusing the goods. When they pause in front of a stall of fruit Reyna speaks up again. “Is Athena still not talking to you?”

She stares blankly at the pomegranates in front of her. “No. I’m not going to take it back, anyways, so suppose she’s going to keep on consciously avoiding me till the end of time.”

“No, I don’t think so. I’d doubt it, anyways. She’s being ridiculous. I think she just saw you as a version of her, anyways — she does love you. She’ll come to terms with it eventually.”

Ignoring the patrons littering the halls, Annabeth bends against the cart and makes piercing eye contact. “I never even made any vows. She just assumed that I would stay a maiden forever. It was sort of belittling,” she muses. 

“I haven’t made vows either. I think I will, though.”

“Oh. Why?”

“I think I always knew I was going to be a maiden goddess, at the end of the day. At this rate I have only been tempted once and never again. I’d rather decide now than feel as though I’m living my life as a choice.”

“Your mother doesn’t enforce virginity.”

“No?”

“You’ve never taken a lover?”

Reyna gives her a wry smile. “Hylla inspired me, I suppose. I didn’t really see a point in the pleasures of the flesh. I suppose I never will.”

She does say it with a lighthearted tone, though, and Annabeth laughs in return. “I didn’t think they were really worth my time, either.”

“Ah, no turning back for you now, I suppose?”

“No. I’ve chosen. I don’t believe that my abilities are lessened because I share a bed with Percy. I’m done with my mother too. Now she can come to me.”

* * *

  
  


**1348 AD**

Hades is overwhelmed to the point that Persephone has been granted extra stay in the Underworld. It is very rare that a meeting at the solstice is this serious, but this year has been traumatic. The crops are dying, hunger and disease run rampant, all educational thoughts are ignored — even Ares seems despondent, with all his love of bloodthirst. Apollo has all eyes on him but still seems at his wit’s end, failing to come up with a cure.

The Olympians are dramatic and fight amongst each other century after century. But the one thing which frightens them all is the fall of civilization. And the disease which sweeps in from the ocean and kills populations all across the planet has all of them in utter distress.

There isn't much to do. Annabeth sees her empire topple biting her lip, knowing at least her books will be safe of all this. Percy controls his temper well in order to not make the problem worse than it is. The decay is worse than normal so she chooses to spend the vast majority of her time underwater, away from the corpses and the lull in advancement. These years are some of the darkest they have ever seen. 

She is surprised to get summoned to the solstice this year by her mother. They have not talked in almost exactly three centuries and she stopped caring about the distance a while ago. She knows all of her friends are right when they console her and remind her that she is her own person. She owes Pallas nothing.

There is no good news on Olympus this night. Demeter is in tears and even Hades, barely able to make it, shakes his head. When they unconvene there is still nectar flowing but the home of the gods is uncharacteristically silent.

Athena does not leave her throne as the rest do. When it is mostly empty Annabeth walks up to her with a staunch look on her face. She refuses to bow.

“Athena.”

The woman seems affronted at this name but makes no move to call her out for it. “Annabeth,” she says, almost calmly. “I hear you are still with that sea spawn.”

“Yes.”

“Hm,” she shifts off her throne. She’s rather big in this form so she shrinks down to size — before Annabeth realizes it she’s standing right in front of her. She reaches out a hand, slowly, and when Annabeth doesn’t move she touches her cheek.

“Perhaps I was incorrect.”

Time stands still. She replays the words in her mind and her mother’s hand on her face.  _ I was incorrect.  _ The gold of the throne still behind her, the light festivities behind — it all grows louder, more intense. She didn’t dare to dream this. 

“You’d approve?”

“Well,” she sighs, “not  _ approve,  _ per se, but I suppose that he has been faithful long enough. It’s wrong for me to punish you for making your own decisions. You have grown up well into your own,” she frowns. “And the mood is somber as it is. I would hate to have regrets, now.”

It takes a second, but Annabeth eventually lets a smile break through her face. She launches forwards and traps Athena’s body around her. The goddess tenses but stands still for a minute before awkwardly moving into it, squeezing her a little.

* * *

  
  
  


**1569 AD**

“Are you sure you’re mentally prepared for this?”

“Shut up. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m just saying. I’m  _ definitely  _ not mentally prepared for this.”

She stops the way she’s worrying over the menu for tonight and pauses near where he’s going through her wine collection. “Just don’t act stupid. You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” he grabs a bottle and runs it over in his hands. “Even if I’m fine there’s really no guarantee that our parents will be. Come on. You know this is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“We can’t wait any longer, can we? I want them on good terms for the wedding.”

“The wedding is literally a century away. I don’t think we should do this right now. All the exploring and the pillaging happening in the west, you see. I think we should make sure that dad and I are focusing on the ships and your mother is focusing on the warfare and you’re focusing on the navigational diaries. This is a terrible time.”

She sighs and walks up to him. He looks at her with his eyes wide, trying to give off the impression of innocence, so she smiles at him softly before lightly backhanding him.

“Ow! That hurt,  _ Annie.” _

“No, it didn’t. We are doing this right now, Perseus. Now get off your gluteus maximus and make sure the kitchens are running smoothly.”

“We could just summon food —”

“It tastes better this way.  _ Go.” _

Unfortunately, it’s when he’s away that Poseidon pops in. They’d decided to hold their meet-the-family dinner at her castle in order to stay on neutral ground. She winces as a few droplets of salty water run off his body and onto her marble floors but puts on a bright smile regardless. “Poseidon! I’m so glad you decided to come,” she gestures towards the table she has set up and he lumbers after her.

“Yes,” he mumbles, “you invited me, after all. It would be rude to decline. Even if I do have to sit down with —”

“ _ You,”  _ a voice chimes in from the door they’d just walked through. “Ah, barnacle beard.”

“Athena. Charming as always.”

“Hmpf,” the woman leads herself in and sits down on the seat that had been designated for Percy, directly across from his father. She refrains from mentioning that, though, not wanting to unnecessarily incense either of them.

The two of them are having a rather intense standoff, regardless, and after a second of their angered gazes she clasps her hands together. “Percy’s just in the kitchen, he’ll be back in a minute!”

Or less than that. Percy appears in front of her just a second later with a wide grin on his face that slowly dissipates as he stares at the scene in front of him. After an audible gulp and a clear nudge he puts it back on his face.

“It’s just great to have you both here! Hopefully we can let bygones be bygones. Please sit comfortably.”

They’re both on edge for the rest of the night but there are no screaming arguments. Annabeth counts that as a win.

* * *

  
  
  


**1777 AD**

“Where are you going to move the palace?”

He rolls over in bed and almost faceplants off if it. Their bed is rather big but Percy liked to sleep with his arms sprawled out and legs (she prefers not to sleep with tails) in a twisted tangle. She doesn’t like it much but it’s just something she’s learned to endure. She reaches out an arm and grabs his hair before he does fall, and he squeaks but leans back.

“I’m not sure,” he frowns. “I know that father will probably stay around Olympus so I should live further out. I’m thinking of the South, probably. There’s a nice gulf that’s the perfect place to keep storms. It’s a little far away from the capital and all that —”

“Don’t worry about that,” she laughs, placing her head on his chest. His chin presses against her hair, a soft pressure she’s all too used to. “You know distance isn’t an issue. It’ll be nice.”

“Yeah,” his heartbeat quickens. “Think about all the interesting new fish that’ll be around! And the new temperament of the oceans. It’s been a long time since I’ve moved. I think we should do some reimagining, too. You should put that brain to work, wise girl,” he nudges her. “I know you still like architecture. Meet up with Malcolm, maybe? We can add in an extra wing or too, however you’d like it.”

She snorts. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, seaweed brain. We’ll figure it out.” (She has a notebook filled with ideas on how to modify the palace.)

“Yeah, yeah,” they snuggle in the silence. Percy is always a little cold and Annabeth is always running hot. It fits. “We should get up.”

“We should.”

Neither of them move.

“I love you,” he whispers.

She looks up, hair flopping in front of her face in the water. She can’t see Percy’s eyes from this angle but she’s been staring at him for centuries. She knows how he looks and she knows so, so well the ways his eyes twinkle when he says those words.

“I love you too,” she presses a kiss to his jaw.

* * *

  
  


**1852 AD**

Percy and Leo are friends. She knows that. And she knows that they probably won’t hurt each other (not that it would be easy for them to do it, anyways), so when she walks into them glaring at each other in their modern-style sitting room she frowns before walking away, hoping Calypso is around.

She isn’t. She goes to their library and is settling down with  _ Uncle Tom’s Cabin —  _ plenty of her half-mortal siblings are championing the anti-slavery cause, and she couldn’t be prouder — when the water starts heating up. At first the change is barely noticeable, but minutes later she can’t ignore it anymore. She snaps her fingers and appears back in the drawing room . . . 

To be faced with two incredibly irate gods. Percy’s doing that thing where he’s surrounded by a mini-cyclone with his sword in his hand, and pure heat is emanating from Leo while he has his fingers knuckles-deep into his tool belt. Annabeth winces and then slowly claps her hands. “Alright. What’s going on here, you two?”

Percy hisses first. “His stupid  _ industrialization. _ ”

Ah. Percy’s been distraught about the advent of factory production for a while now. While the method is practical and is propelling human civilization faster than ever before, it is causing more pollution than ever. The sea is slowly starting to get affected — and Percy’s temper ebbs and flows with it. 

“Alright. Now what’s  _ exactly  _ the problem?”

“Percy’s going overboard,” Leo responds. The area around him is starting to cool. “I was just talking about how great it’ll be for humans moving forwards —”

“Right. The humans. What about the fish and the sea creatures? The rest of nature? All the nymphs and the dryads,” his voice cracks, “this is a death sentence for so many of them.”

Technically he’s not wrong. But he looks like he’s almost on the edge of tears. He’s lowered his sword and the water around him, too, is calming down. Annabeth sighs and reaches out to grab his sword from him. Leo looks forlorn in the corner, and she sends him a soft look. “Sorry about this Leo. Give Calypso my regards.”

He nods and disappears. Annabeth places Riptide on the table and Percy’s tail almost collapses in on itself. He presses his hands onto his face. She can’t tell if tears are leaking from the gaps between his fingers or if it’s just the water, but she can guess. “Remember what you told me? When Alexandria burned?”

He nods. “All so long ago.”

“Percy. Humans always build themselves up. They’ll fix this. We need to have hope.”

When he glances up his tan skin is tear-streaked. “It’s different this time — this is worse. It’s something I could have never imagined. Have you seen Pan lately?”

She shakes her hand but he continues without acknowledging her, anyways. “And I don’t even have it bad — I’ll always have my realm, as will my father, humans need water and oxygen and all that — but it’s not  _ about  _ me. It’s all the pollution, and the drilling, and the trees. They’re going to destroy everything,” he lets out, and then quieter, “I think I hate humans.”

“Percy!”

“What? I do. I know we need them but they’re just so volatile. I hate being a god, Annabeth. I hate being a god and how that means that I’m not cursed with just eternal life, but also being forever beholden to the whims of weak creatures who don’t have any feelings.”

“Humans have feelings. I know it, they really do. It’s what I’ve spent all my time acknowledging.”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

She’s looking at him carefully, like he’s a fuse about to blow, because she knows that he is. “I should go,” he ends up saying. “I need to — stop this. I know I shouldn’t be like this.”

“No,” she says, then more stalwartly. “No. You’re never doing this without me. It’s okay. I love you.”

He stares at his hands. “All I do is destroy them. And now they’re destroying me,” he chokes. And then he holds out his hands right in front of her. “Look at me, Annabeth. Look at these hands. They’ve done such terrible things. You can’t love them.”

Although the water is calm she can feel him about to snap. She grabs what he gives her, wrapping her pale ink-stained fingers around his broader ones. “I love these too. I love every part of you.”

He burrows his head into her chest and she holds him close. “The Fates are dealing us an unfair hand,” she whispers.

* * *

  
  


**1900 AD**

She’s not there when it happens, which she regrets greatly. She thinks she could have changed what happened, at least minutely.

He’s on the beach, hair windswept and eyes piercing. They’ve both aged themselves to be a little more than teenagers. There are still smile lines across his face, however, although they’re definitely not in place right now. His eyes look across the open expanse in front of him blearily. He doesn’t even seem to notice, at all, when she settles into the sand next to him, just like she once did so long ago, when the world was a simpler place.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“They were cutting down trees.”

“Oh.”

“I couldn’t help it. I just felt it. It just happened.”

She clasps his hand.

“I didn’t mean to,” he repeats, “but I don’t think I’m that angry about it.”

“You’re not?”

“They’re doing it to themselves, partly. They’re  _ asking  _ for this kind of destruction. I’m just giving it to them.”

She should tell him no. She should remind him about the good of humankind. But she sees into his mind, sees the waste all around the ocean, sees his pure fury. So she leans into him and nods against his side. 

* * *

  
  


**1945 AD**

Annabeth helps write out the legislation Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades create to ban their demigod children from existence. It’s a hard job and it grates on her sensibilities (helping the three most powerful gods work on becoming less powerful is obviously not fun), and when she finishes she transports home and lands right in the middle of a party.

It’s the  _ good  _ kind of party, luckily, with their friends, relatively minor and newer gods. Wine and nectar is flowing freely. It’s loud and there’s a crowd, but she’s able to find Percy pretty easily. He’s sitting in the corner, laughing with Nico, Hazel, Thalia, and Jason, but he gets up and kisses her when she walks up to him.

“What are we celebrating?”

Nico snorts. “Not celebrating. This is just a way for all of us to prepare ourselves for the shitshow the next century is going to be.”

She knits her brows together. “What do you mean?”

Hazel — pure, sweet Hazel (not so innocent, she and Frank already have two children) — gives her a wide-eyed look. “The contract, you know, the one you were writing.”

“Yeah. What about it? I thought it was pretty solid.”

“‘Beth, I love you, but there’s no way it’s going to hold.”

At first she has an argument on her lips, but after a second it dies back as she realizes what she’s fighting for. “I suppose. Unfortunate. It was worded excellently,” she slides in between Jason and Percy, summoning a glass of nectar to her hands. They laugh at their parent’s whims again, idling away the hours, occasionally discussing the war almost all of them had opted out of fighting in (Reyna hadn’t, but she hadn’t exactly taken sides either). 

Apollo is starting to fade away when they decide to all return back to their realms. Nico and Will are almost the last to bid them goodbye, but as she hugs the two of them and watches them leave she notices Percy still talking to Jason and Piper behind her. She smiles and sidles up to him, across from the two other immortals who are probably their best friends — Piper and Annabeth are forever conjoined, but Aphrodite’s daughter also loves getting up to mischief with Percy while she and Jason discuss  _ actually serious things.  _

Jason smiles. “I know it’s kind of out of nowhere, but we wanted to tell you first. You two have always stuck by us.”

Annabeth raises her eyebrows in anticipation but stays quiet as Piper finishes the statement. “We’re going to have a baby,” she says, eyes singing.

Annabeth takes a brief second to process but the minute she does she’s launching herself at her best friend. “ _ Wow —  _ oh, this is wonderful. You two will be just wonderful parents.”

Percy pulls Jason into a side hug. They spend the next few hours well into the night discussing the intricacies of immortal birth and their child. When Jason and Piper leave there’s a question hanging in the air for the two of them as well, but they both unconsciously choose to ignore it and spend time in their bed.

* * *

  
  


**2020 AD**

“You know,” he says, “I’m feeling a little better about this innovation thing.”

“Really?”

“Well, I mean, I still don’t really like the idea of it. But the way it’s going — I think they’re all figuring out that they  _ need  _ nature, too. That it’s part of human nature to have the rest of us. They can’t — what’s the word —  _ automate  _ everything. I hope.”

“I told you it would work out,” she teases. “They’re working on space exploration too — and you know that there are storms across the rest of the galaxy too. You’ll be fine, wherever they go. They need you.”

“And you most of all.”

She smirks. This past century has been a gigantic watershed for her. The internet, for all its ups and downs, can spread words like nothing else. Now humans are realizing the pure importance of reading, more than ever.

Idly, she thinks about a library in Egypt burning and laughs to herself. 

“The Fates figure everything out.”

He grins. “I love all these environmental activists. This is great,” he leans down to her stomach and nudges his nose against it. “What do you think, baby? Are you going to be an activist? Oh yes you are. You are!”

He tickles. She bursts into laughter at the feeling, clutching her stomach as well. “Come on, Percy. We’ll see who she decides to be. I feel like it’ll be distinctly more modern.”

“Hm?”

“She’s coming through the will of the Fates. I thought about it and after Mael was born he became the god of — what’s it called, that nuclear thing — she’ll probably be somewhat relevant as well.”

“Oh. I see.” He traces the outline of her bulge. “I have a feeling, though. I think we have our newest nature champion here — after Pan, bless him —”

She laughs. “We’ll see, Percy. We’ll see.”

They’re in Central Park. It’s an empty day out — the humans are all stuck in their little houses due to some disease that was killing some of them — she thinks — it’s not as significant as it used to be, now with the ingenuity of new medicine, so she didn’t care to look into it too much. Percy has his face in her lap and their new story in his hands.

_ We have all the time in the world.  _

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! please stay safe & leave me a kudos (or a comment) if you enjoyed this :)  
> here is what's actually happening during all the dates: 
> 
> 2700 BC  
> In the middle of the first of the city phases of the Syro-Mesopotamian city of Mari (this period is called "City I" in archaeological literature).
> 
> 1432 BC  
> Not necessarily connected to a time period; looking at caveman marks.
> 
> 769 BC  
> The Iliad and Odyssey were supposedly written sometime in this century.
> 
> 463 BC  
> Around when Athens was a prominent city. This is not historically accurate at all (or godly accurate, I suppose). We have no idea when the Poseidon/Athena feud actually might have happened.
> 
> 65 BC  
> Chalcedon, Tenedos, and Koraksesion were major sea battles that occured between the Romans and the Persians (don’t cite me on that) around this time. It’s hard to find clear evidence of sea storms before the 1600s, so I basically kind of used creative liberties with that.
> 
> 48 BC  
> Yikes. Julius Caesar set fire to the city while he was pursuing Pompey, and the Library of Alexandria was unfortunately in the way.
> 
> 98 AD  
> Generally the end of the first century; their discussions are about Jesus Christ. Rick notes that the God Christians worship is akin to the eternal Chaos of Greek myths.
> 
> 379 AD  
> Theodosius I ordered the closure of all Greek pagan worship sites.
> 
> 610 AD  
> Heraclius, Emperor of the Byzantine Empire, reinstated Greek as his Empire’s language in place of Latin.
> 
> 876 AD  
> Just a random time.
> 
> 941 AD  
> Rudaki, known as the “Adam of Poets” of Persia, dies poor in Bukhara.
> 
> 947 AD  
> Another random time.
> 
> 1054 AD  
> The first Schism of the Christian Church into the Eastern and Western versions.
> 
> 1221 AD  
> Venice opens up trade agreements with the Mongol Empire.
> 
> 1348 AD  
> The Black Death killed millions of people globally.
> 
> 1569 AD  
> The midst of the beginning of European colonization of Asia, Africa, and the Americas.
> 
> 1777 AD  
> America established independence from Britain a few years prior.
> 
> 1852 AD  
> Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe is published, a step towards the American Civil War and freedom from slavery for millions. Also the middle of the Industrial Revolution.
> 
> 1900 AD  
> The Great Galveston Hurricane which pushed through Texas and killed an estimated 8000-12000 people.
> 
> 1945 AD  
> World War II ends; canonically, the Big Three agree to not sire any more demigods. It clearly works out great.
> 
> 2020 AD  
> Ah, the world we live in today. The novel coronavirus leaves New York’s streets empty as hundreds of thousands die globally. Stay safe.


End file.
